Living With Mary And Company

By T. H. Barker

ADULT CONTENT! Pete and Mary got off to a shaky start -- Pete was looking for a one-night stand and Mary lied to him and withheld information from him that first night. Pete was leery -- but Mary knew a good thing when she saw it and committed herself to a point well beyond what most women would in order to bring this man into her life. Bragging about Pete's sexual prowess brought other women sniffing around, which was just one of several complications the two of them had to overcome, but it was all part of living with Mary and Company...

• Language: English
• Publisher: T. H. Barker
• Release date: Sep 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311126139

T. H. Barker

T. H. Barker has been publishing erotica on the web since 2003 under the pseudonym Thinking Horndog and has a following on several sites of readers delighted and entertained by the quality of his works. "I tend not to write pure stroke, but rather put my characters -- who are NOT perfect people or Barbie dolls -- in real situations and wrap a real story around the sex scenes. I'm known for my humor, which is a little twisted..."

Book preview

Living With Mary and Company

T. H. Barker

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2015 T. H. Barker

License notes for the Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to others. If you would like to share this ebook with others, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient or recommend that they go to Smashwords.com and purchase their own copy. If you are reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please go to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the efforts of the author.

Author's Foreword

This book contains adult content – and it crosses various boundaries even for that. If you are too young to be reading depictions of sexual activity or have limited tolerance for such content, including activities that are, well, not ‘vanilla,’ let us say, perhaps you should look elsewhere. On the other hand, if you consider yourself to be open-minded, well, let’s see... There is nothing here that hasn’t been done before, after all...

As I have indicated before, my characters are what they are, and they speak for themselves, not for me. Don't assume that because one of them presents an attitude that you find offensive, or whatever, that I'm providing you with MY opinions – look around and you'll see another character with a differing viewpoint.

A special thank you to B. L. G., who is one Hell of an editor...

Enjoy!

T. H. B.

*-*-*-*-*-*

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

It was Friday night at the end of a shit week and a buddy and I were clubbing. For me, this wasn't particularly easy, because we were deep in Country & Western country and I'm a Rock & Roll kind of guy. I'd have been better off looking for hip-hop, but I didn't blend in, if you know what I mean. There were other problems, too -- the clubs were twenty miles from the military base where we were working and there were eleven young studs for every young chick. Oh, did I mention that nineteen of those miles to be crossed were in a dry county, so EVERYBODY made the trek? The only local options were the various service clubs on the base -- the Enlisted Club, the NCO Club, and the Officer's club -- and by rank the boys were limited to one of those -- and who was gonna import women past the gates of the base? If there was a woman present in one of those clubs, she was either a soldier, a wife of a soldier, or a guest signed in from off-base BY a soldier. Of those three options, only a female soldier might really be unattached -- and in a target-rich environment like that, the women had their pick, so you could be pretty sure that most of them weren't, either! As a result, virtually EVERYBODY made the long trek off-base to party, running the gauntlet of police traps set up for speeders and drunks... All in all, it sucked.

I wasn't in boots anymore, but I had been for the full six years, since reservists got called up anyway to play in the sandboxes across the Atlantic. At this point in time, I was about a year out of the whole mess, doing work as a contractor -- and my 'SECRET' clearance got me into government projects, which was why I was hanging out in the vicinity of a military base. My partner Mickey and I were putting in the infrastructure for a brand-new, experimental tactical combat simulator, along with about two dozen other workers doing construction on-site, as sub-contractors to sub-contractors to a government contractor... You get the picture.

Anyway, just going to the county line and the over-populated strip clubs and Country and Western havens clustered there wouldn't get us Bob Seger, even, so we had to go into the closest city -- or even across the river to the town on the other side, which was in another state -- to find a place where there were both women AND Rock and Roll. Mickey and I always went together; Mickey would indulge his craving for Jack Daniels and I would people watch and have maybe two beers, for I was the designated driver. Getting lucky wasn't even planned for, because neither of us ever did -- it was just a fact of life. I'm pretty shy and we're both a little nerdy and it just didn't happen -- I have to grow on a woman, like moss or something. Most women catch something a little faster moving and will end up marrying an asshole before they discover, belatedly, that I was there the whole time. I don't date married women -- because I don't want to have to display my combat skills on some woman's husband, more than anything else -- so I had no real target audience. Mickey was technically cuter, but he liked to mix blood and alcohol at about fifty-fifty when he partied, so we were more likely to have to leave a club because somebody was trying to stomp his drunk ass than because a woman took a shine to him.

I DO like to dance, though, and I'm reasonably decent at it. Usually, once I finally get a woman onto the floor, others notice and I get to dance a bit. That first pass, though, is an inevitably painful series of rejections...

I was patrolling the tables at the edge of the dance floor, looking for a target, when I noticed a chick with a fine puffy rack bulging out of the low neckline of a puffed-sleeve blouse. I'm not a clothes type of guy, having worn a uniform or blue jeans most of my adult life, but this was a peasant blouse, maybe, or a baby-doll style. A pregnant chick could wear it because it was loose below the gather of fabric just under her jugs... Anyway, my eyes having been drawn to that, I took in the rest of her. As was the usual thing with a woman sporting jugs the size of grapefruit, the rest of her was substantial, too -- she was a little wide and a little thick and her belly DID undoubtedly bulge under that top, although not so much as to make her appear to be far gone in pregnancy. She was wearing a jean skirt -- a pretty short one -- and thighs probably bigger than mine stuck out of it and led to some pretty big, but muscular-looking calves that trimmed down to a pair of ankles that were only mildly thick, one of which sported a little gold chain. She was in wedgie sandals with a strap around the heel to keep them on while dancing – which made sense since dancing in flip-flops just does NOT work, in my humble opinion. Having taken in everything else, I decided to take in the face.

Yeah, I'm male -- suck it up, girls. I might talk to your face, but the rest of you is much more likely to get my attention -- especially if it is hanging out there. Which brings me to a pet peeve: If you don't want me looking, WHY DO YOU BARE IT? What is it you think you're doing, exactly, if it isn't advertising for male attention? Ah, never mind...

So, anyway, I reverse my scan and get a look at her face -- and she's looking back, so I turn on the charm -- that's code for 'I smile a little,' since I apparently HAVE no charm. She's, eh, not beautiful, but not ugly -- brunette, brown eyes, that olive shade to her skin that says she's either Italian or she's been hanging out in tanning booths naked. Frankly, I love that color. She seemed to pink up a bit – it was hard to tell in the semi-darkness of the club -- and looked away. I moved on, but she took a prominent place on my target list -- which was pretty short, as it turned out.

I settled back in my seat after making my patrol and Mickey grunted, Nothing?

There's a sort of chunky little Italian number in a jean skirt at your two o'clock, I replied.

Bleh. Mickey has standards -- and he'd rather do without than lower them, apparently. I have standards, too, but I'm in my late twenties and I spend way too much time with my right hand and porn for company and thus I've been adapting. Women who appear on magazine covers STAY on magazine covers -- I won't be getting one. I'm always amazed when the blurb for a porn flick describes a chick that I consider merely solidly built and capable of taking a good fucking as 'chunky' -- and there are a LOT of chicks with those jiggly asses that guys shine up with baby oil that I would be happy to sink my dick into. Fat, for me, goes WAY beyond what some of them sport. But Mickey was still looking for that blonde, alcoholic swimsuit model to come along so he can sweep her away. If I'd known in high school what I know now, I'd have probably been married at eighteen -- but I'd had the same standards as Mickey had, at that point, so I wasn't.

Hey, I'm just gonna dance with her, I argued.

Until she steps on you, maybe, he retorted.

Dude, she's not that bad... I looked her way -- and discovered her again looking back.

Yeah, whatever. If I have to take you to the ER to have your foot amputated, I'm gonna be pissed, Mickey waved it off, adding, She's old, too. Mickey hadn't danced tonight -- and wouldn't even try until he was lit; he required liquid courage. I did, too -- but I needed a lot less.

I looked over at her again -- and she was talking to her girlfriend, but seemed to be eyeing us. You're kidding, right?

She's at LEAST thirty...

Like I said -- different standards. After doing virtually without for the decade since high school, a four or five year gap in ages didn't bother me when I was looking at dancing with a chick -- Hell, I would FUCK a chick anywhere from barely legal to somewhere around fifty, I figured. But Mickey wanted a twenty-four-year-old drunken swimsuit model -- although he might stoop to go below that...

We're just gonna dance! I protested.

Yeah, whatever. Jeezus, Pete -- she's probably got a glass eye and a peg leg -- you're not picky. Mickey finished his most recent Jack and Coke. I'm gonna get a refill. Has that beer evaporated from the bottle yet?

I swigged down the last couple of swallows. Yeah, finally.

Okay, I'll get you another. He rose and headed for the bar.

I gathered my courage and stood to begin my attack run. Why I would rather enter a room that could be full of guys holding AK-47s than ask a woman to dance, I don't know -- but that's the way it was. I pretended to be going somewhere else and broke off at the last minute -- then I stood there, realizing that I hadn't rehearsed what I was going to say! After a second or two, I blurted, Hey, why aren't you dancing?

Her eyes kind of popped and she said, I dunno. Nobody asked...

I just did. I reached down and tugged her hand and she staggered up, her eyes still startled -- then she giggled in excitement and embarrassment.

You go, girl! her girlfriend erupted in an odd accent -- and the woman giggled again! I tugged her toward the dance floor and she made only token resistance.

On the floor, you couldn't hear yourself think, so all I got out of her by leaning in and yelling was her name -- Mary. We went through three dances and she was showing signs of being wasted when a slow dance came on.

Do you dance slow? I asked.

Not very well...

I won't do anything too crazy, then, I declared, pulling her in.

We didn't do much but rock back and forth -- which is a LOT less than I'm capable of -- but there were other things going on. She started out stiff, and I started out holding her fairly chastely, but she relaxed and closed in and I took territory with my hands. The more I took, the closer she got, and one slow dance led to a second, and a third... She was pressing those hooters into my chest and my hardon was pressed against her lower belly -- and we both seemed to like it like that. You couldn't slide a dime between us anywhere while I rubbed her sweaty back under the blouse with one hand and the top of her ass with the other and she moaned softly into my shoulder while I blew on her neck. The band went back to something fast, but she didn't want to let go; eventually, though, we had no choice. I took her back to her table and thanked her and headed back to mine.

So, how was the hippo? Mickey wanted to know.

I'm gonna fuck that! I announced, adding, You'd better pace yourself -- you may have to drive. I looked back over at her table and she was talking animatedly with her girlfriend -- who hadn't even appeared on my radar -- and giggling -- and BOTH of them were looking my way. I waved and got a more enthusiastic wave in return.

You're shitting me, right? Mickey grunted.

Nope. Suddenly, it was like someone had thrown a switch in my head. I'm usually VERY shy -- but tonight, I was gonna let it all hang out! I may not score, but she's gonna know she's been worked over! I announced. I sucked down half of my beer -- which was enough to make Mickey's eyes pop, since I'd been known to nurse one all evening -- got up, and sauntered over to their table.

The band picked that moment to go on break, so the volume level dropped markedly as someone started the juke box. That meant I was going to have to carry a conversation -- but, weirdly, I didn't give a shit. So, okay, what do I need to know about you besides the fact that your name is Mary and you like to have sex standing up?

Mary snorted her Rum and Coke and her girlfriend -- whose name was Ute, I later discovered -- guffawed and announced, You are FOCKED UP!

...And that started things. To this day, I have no idea where it came from, but I kept up this banter and got crazier and crazier and we would dance and I drank eight times what I usually do and Mickey had to move to the next table to keep an eye on me while I just went nuts! I asked shit like, So, Mary, why don't you take off your bra so I can feel up your titties? And Mary blushed and giggled and swatted my arm and Ute announced again that I was 'focked up' and then egged her on. Mary went off to the Ladies Room and came back braless -- and I proceeded to feel her up VERY VISIBLY, right there at the table, while she giggled loudly and blushed and clearly got off on it, big time!

Mickey was nonplussed. What got into you, Man? he asked me quietly at one point.

I just wanna have fun! I replied. Sooner or later, she'll put a stop to things -- or I'll fuck her on top of the table -- one or the other. Until then, I've got pussy to play with and I'm gonna go for it!

I took to sliding my hands under her skirt and groping her ass while we danced -- and she giggled and panted and wailed, I'm so hot! and couldn't seem to get enough of my attentions. I actually bent her back over the table at about one o'clock and rubbed her pussy in front of a shitload of other people sitting at tables all around us! I had nothing to lose and everything to gain by showing a little audacity -- and I just went wild! Ute helped, egging Mary on until we were very nearly a sex show, there on the dance floor!

But closing time came, and we were stuck; I couldn't take her back to my place, because it was an old Army barracks -- one of the ways our company had gotten the low bid in was to agree to be quartered there, rather than hotels -- and she had some problem or another with taking me home. So she begged me for my phone number and was quick to give me hers and we sadly parted company after last call. I nearly raped her in the parking lot -- well, you can't rape the willing, and she WAS willing -- but Mickey pulled me off and wanted to know if I was sober enough to drive. I was high on adrenaline to the point that I was rock-steady, so I took the wheel for the long journey home.

We stopped at the diner where we usually stoked up with coffee and an early breakfast off the highway about halfway back -- and low and behold, who should appear within five minutes? Ute sat there telling everyone for three booths over that I was a crazy man and making her signature 'You are focked up!' announcement every few minutes while we ate and talked. Ute was stocky and wore her hair in a mannish hairdo, cut short and swept off to one side, and explained that she was German and the wife of a soldier who was deployed, But I have permission to play. He does, too -- we do our own thing while he's deployed.

'Yeah, right!' I figured, but Mickey had paced himself and I could tell that he was seriously considering momentarily lowering his standards. Ute was exotic and was braless, dressed in this sexy-looking off-the-shoulder on one side kind of rig and a VERY short skirt and she talked a good line and even though I knew she wouldn't look as good naked as Mary, she was probably a fine fuck. So he got into the conversation and it took us almost two hours to eat breakfast and we probably entertained the half-dozen booths nearby with all the outrageous shit we were spinning.

Sometime in there, I started rubbing Mary's feet. She'd switched to flip-flops and I'm not sure how it started, but I ended up digging my thumbs into her arches while she moaned and groaned like we were having sex. She had this incredible pedicure; actually, her fingers were similarly perfect. Have you ever noticed that chicks who have nothing better to do at night have perfect nails? Mary's were done up the French way and then lacquered until they glowed -- every finger and toe. Ute had this candy-stripe thing going on. I asked and discovered that Mary had done them both and made a little money, even, doing friends; Mary was a little embarrassed about it, but proud of her work.

Mary looked pretty good in bright light, I had to admit. She was plush; she was carrying weight -- and probably weighed what I did, despite being a couple of inches shorter -- but there was just enough of her to be smooth everywhere, without noticeable rolls or anything. Even her fingers were long and perfectly proportioned. In the club, I might have thought that Ute was hotter due to her attitude and how she was dressed, but alongside Mary she was pasty-looking and overly made-up and her breasts were more like the baby-fat ones on an overweight twelve-year-old and she DID have rolls and a blocky ass and... well, you get the picture. Mary had a bit of a belly, but it was womanly and didn't hang over her pussy or anything -- it just bulged a little bit and displayed her deeply-indented navel. I'd seen chicks who were a lot smaller with the same general shape. She was also, well, giddy. I'd never had this effect on a woman before and it was nice -- she just bubbled! She had this cute snorting giggle and between us Ute and I kept her in stitches. She just seemed so incredibly happy...

Mary was hungry when we again parted in the diner parking lot -- and not for food, either -- but she still had whatever issue she had and I still had mine, so we weren't going home together. I took Mickey back to the base and we were both unhappy, because once Mickey smelled pussy, he'd been ready to cut a deal with his conscience. Apparently Ute had issues similar to Mary's -- maybe a husband at home? I couldn't guess, but I didn't believe the 'we're doing our own thing' tale, any more than she would have if I'd come out with it.

*-*-*-*-*

It was nearly four when we got in and the barracks were dark -- it was a classic transient barrack with bunk-beds, about two dozen of them. The guy that owned our company hired almost exclusively from the ex-G.I. pool -- and that meant we'd all seen worse, and would put up with poor conditions for a bit more pay. That let him undercut the competition and come in with a low bid that still satisfied the government for quality and security. We had two women in the group, but we'd done that, too, under combat conditions -- we just gave them their space and limited our remarks about undue exposure to whistles and cat-calls. I decided that I was sweaty so I undressed, grabbed a towel, and headed for the showers...

...But it wasn't that simple. There were some unmistakable noises coming from the shower room as I approached, and things could be going one way or another; I decided that if things were going the WRONG way, my presence would put an end to it, so I just stood in the door, fully visible, wearing my towel.

Hi, Pete! Crystal, one of our two female colleagues, was bent at the waist and Mike Trammel was feeding her pussy some dick while she held Jack Malloy's hips. She'd been blowing him, but was apparently alert to my approach.

Hi, Crystal. Getting your monthly? I replied. I'd seen something similar before. Crystal was a big, husky gal, kind of homely -- the type that wears a ring on every finger because she chewed the nails to the quick and they weren't pretty. She was a bleached blonde and built kind of blocky, and on any workday, she was one of the guys, but about once a month -- just after her period, as I had it figured -- she seemed to have to cut loose and get laid. Since she was built to take it, she generally wanted more than one guy, and kept going until she was bowlegged and sore. I think part of the deal was that if she did a bunch, then she wouldn't get romantic about any one guy and fuck up a work relationship -- and since she was a party slut, the guys wouldn't get all romantically possessive, either. It was just something that happened every once in a while. The guys didn't hit on her in between and more or less treated the whole thing like an occasional affliction she had, sort of like Mickey's tendency to drink too much. Of course, that didn't keep them from taking advantage of it...

Yeah, Crystal panted. Clubs were... full of... losers... so I... came home... to guys... I can trust. I nodded, watching her big titties jounce to Mike's thrusts. Want some?

No, that's okay, Hon -- I just came in and I want to shower. I got sweaty all over some woman at a club, I told her. Oddly, I couldn't bring myself to fuck Crystal, even after an offer like this one.

Pete's queer, anyway, Mike puffed.

Oh, no he ain't! Mickey retorted from behind me, You should have SEEN this hippo! It was disgusting! Although, I have to admit, I was trying hard to get between the legs of her girlfriend...

Mary had Ute beat in the looks department! I insisted. YOU were the one slumming!

This Mary HAD to be thirty! Mickey told the room mock-conspiratorially.

Ute wasn't eighteen! I argued, More like twenty-eight!

She had me aroused against my better judgment, Mickey insisted in his defense. He had his paws all over this Mary -- and I mean AAAALLLL over her!

Mama fix, Crystal puffed. Tell me all about it while you fuck me.

Mickey cocked his head and grinned. That's a plan... He stepped up to Crystal and she started jacking him when she had the attention span. She lost control of that twice while I showered, shaking and gasping and wailing, FUCK! FUCK! I left the shower I was under to Mike after he finished and Jack rotated behind Crystal, leaving Mickey her mouth. I gathered that Crystal only worked a cock with her mouth enough to keep it interested -- her pussy was too hungry to want to share...

I left the shower room and headed back to the main room, leaving the lights off, and hit my locker for running shorts and a T-shirt and swapped my flip-flops I wore in the shower for some heavier slip-on sandals. I was thinking about going around and awakening a few of the guys so they wouldn't feel left out and Crystal could get her fill; the other female in the barracks wasn't a problem, since Bettina Gregory was a stone bull dyke and spent every weekend with one of her lipstick lesbian girlfriends. I was looking around to see who was there and who wasn't when I saw a face at the window...

Chapter 2

There had been thefts in the barracks; if you've ever lived like that, you know it is almost inevitable. I trusted my colleagues -- but the place was wide open. Once, while sleeping in a tent, I'd actually had someone try to steal my wallet from my pants while they were under my sleeping bag!

I pretended that I didn't see anything and got into my shoes, then headed out the back door of the barracks and crept around to see who it was.

The intruder was female -- that's all I could make out in the darkness. I crept around the side of the building and was about fifteen feet from her when she heard me, gasped, and turned to run...

Ladies, if you're running for your life, do NOT do it in flip-flops! You have to clench your toes to make sure they don't fall off and they go every which way if you don't stay slow enough to control them -- and if you do, you're dead meat! Kick 'em off and try to stay away from broken glass...

I caught her in no time, diving on her from the side and bowling her over like a cougar on an antelope! I had her pinned, flat on her back, before I got a good look...

You! I gasped. It was Mary! What the Hell are you doing here?

I had to see, Mary gasped. Ute said you were a big fat liar...

How did you get on base?

Ute's car has base stickers, Mary related. It wasn't a problem. We just hung back...

Clearly, Ute is full of shit! I ranted. I thought you were a burglar!

I'm sorry! she wailed. I just had to know...

Well, now you do! I was still pretty hyped up.

Yeah... She gazed up at me. Come home with me.

I thought you had issues, I accused. Here she'd just been caught not believing me and she was reversing herself?

There are... complications, but I think I can work something out, Mary replied, adding earnestly, Please?

I wanted to bite her neck, rip her clothes off and fuck her right there on the ground! Fine. I'll go pack an overnight bag, I grunted. Park in the lot out front -- I'll be right out. I got up and let her up.

She nodded. Okay.

I'm gonna spank your ass -- and maybe Ute's, too! Maybe you ought to think about that! I growled.

Mary's eyes took on this glow and she asked seductively, My bare ass?

Yeah. Suddenly, punishing her was sex...

Okay. I swear, she was swinging that butt as she headed off. There are different swings. Some girls do it at the hip and some kind of rock and some just move and nothing seems to happen, like a guy -- but Mary's swung low, like a pendulum. I watched her for a few steps, shook myself, and headed back inside.

Mickey was coming out of the shower room, looking pleased with himself as I opened my locker and fished out my gym bag. What's up? he asked.

Mary and Ute followed us home. I thought Mary might be our thief when I saw her face in the window and I went out and tackled her ass, I related. She decided that maybe she could take me home after all.

No shit? Mickey blurted. They followed us?

Apparently they thought we were bullshitting them when we said we were living in an old barracks, I explained.

Lemme get this straight, Mike busted in, Pussy followed you home? I nodded. What's up -- new after shave?

Frankly, he turned into some kind of wild-ass crazy motherfucker at the club! Mickey supplied. If I hadn't been there to see it, I wouldn't have believed it!

I STILL don't! Mike retorted, and reached for a pair of shorts. I gotta see this!

I rolled my eyes and returned to packing my bag. If I didn't know better, I'd SWEAR you really thought I was gay!

You DON'T know better! Mike argued, I just watched you pass up Crystal!

Nothing against Crystal, I replied, eyeing the subject of the conversation, who was throwing on a nightgown, but I'm just not up for following three or four of you. I like Crystal, but while I understand why she doesn't do onesies, I DO...

I get it, Pete, Crystal waved a hand. Believe me, I understand.

Figuring I'd packed enough shit for a one day adventure, I zipped up my bag and headed for the door, Mike and Mickey in tow. As I hit the top step out front, headlights flashed and Mary hung herself out the passenger window of Ute's shitbox car, waving. Pete! Over here!

I'll be damned! Mike grunted. Well, go for it, there, Stud -- we'll see you when you get back and you can lie about how many times you did her...

If I decide to talk about it at all! I threw over my shoulder. Then I was down the steps and Mary got out of the car and pulled the passenger seat forward so I could get in the back. She took my bag and tossed it in the front floorboards and followed me into the seat.

You owe me an apology! I lit into Ute.

Ja, okay -- but would YOU have believed that? Ute said defensively.

Eh, maybe not, I allowed.

Where is Mickey? Ute asked.

He was tired, I replied. Having just had his ashes hauled, Mickey wouldn't have wanted Ute, anyway, and he was a complication -- I could tell by the look on Mary's face. Mary pressed herself against me again and I noticed her bra was back -- I didn't ask before I popped the hooks one-handed and she said nothing at all. She wanted to kiss and I had no problem with it -- but I pulled back at one point and said, Don't think this gets you off the hook -- I'm STILL gonna spank you! She just smiled.

*-*-*-*-*

They lived in a trailer park -- a shitty little place with maybe two dozen trailers a couple of miles from the base. Mary's trailer was in relatively good condition -- which made it a shining star in this place. It was also a double-wide. Wait here, she told me, waving a finger, while we fix things. She and Ute headed off. I saw lights come on here and there, and Mary was gone for probably ten minutes before she waved to me from the door; I didn't see Ute leave, but she wasn't there when I entered the trailer.

The rooms I saw were as neat as a pin -- clearly, Mary hadn't had to clean the place. The living room and kitchen were immaculate. Mary drew me back along the hall past two closed doors and one that was ajar and clearly led to a bathroom. She led